Evidence of aspirations from a time long past.
Neither cloud nor mist, you hang there
Above and below the valley walls
Within, your eyes are peering down
Seeking out, the slightest change
Guardian of the mystic's path
Auditor of ancient tales
Forests of the fallen dreams
Your many fingers brush the treetops
And yet I sense a warmth within you
Zeppelin of the cold spring morn.
Blanket o'er the spirit vapours
Lighter of the lamps of dawn.
We freely take of all you offer
Pictures from the smoking fire
You daubed the hillsides long before us
The dragon's tongue flicks down the glen
Not cloud nor plume of smoke nor mist
Instil in me, the strength to thwart your wish.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem